Mass Effect: The Hound of Hell
by Demented Assassin
Summary: They called it the guardian of Hades. Today, the three headed hound is the guardian of humanity. Short story written to explore a potential origin for Cerberus and The Illusive Man. Rated Teen for mild language and violence.


**Mass Effect – The Hound of Hell  
**Location: Dorn Mining Corporation - Mining Station #5417, currently located within the Icarus asteroid field.  
Local (Station) Time: 23:37 Hours

A pair of two-toed feet rattled purposefully against a grated metal catwalk, their ensuing legs making powerful strides to their destination. The owner of these body parts, one Pilax Carvaernos and head of security aboard the mining station, was currently on his way to his "office", though the claustrophobic closet the volus had provided scarcely warranted the term. His three man strong security team, counting himself, comprised of fellow turians Gavil and Finnas, the former of which was currently assisting their diminutive charges in offloading supplies from the recently docked Topor Shipping transport vessel.

Finnas meanwhile was supposed to be sleeping in preparation for his long and lonely night shift, though if his supervisor were to make a guess he'd say the younger turian was likely streaming illicit media from the nearest extranet buoy. Pilax didn't particularly care, it wasn't against regulations and Finnas knew better than to let it affect either his punctuality or work rate. The purposeful strides drew to a sudden halt as the turian paused to adjust the placement of his utility belt, a lingering side effect of his military background. Though all turians had a strong semblance of neatness after their service, Pilax had always been more obsessive than most. If orderliness were a desirable quality for promotion he was willing to bet he'd have reached Captain before he completed his term.

Satisfied with the tweaking, Carvaernos continued his march through the station, leaving the clangs of the engineering deck's metal catwalks behind in favour of the soft rasp of the dirt encrusted mining levels. Many of the station's volus workers greeted him by name and some he offered a curt nod to. Aboard a station as small as this he was familiar with almost each and every individual worker, even with the blank features of the volus' far too similar pressure suits. Eventually the security chief reached the relative sanctuary of his office and promptly settled in for an evening of oh-so-glorious paperwork. But first, Pilax decided, a cup of energy boosting bessar was in order.

* * *

In the dark depths of the engineering bay, hidden in the shadows of the heavy machinery and maintenance tunnels, cowered a pair of pale skinned humans, their breathing faint and tinged with nervous desperation. As the echoes of the turian's footsteps faded away the younger of the two men allowed himself a small smile of relieved satisfaction and indulged in a single, deep inhale to steady his breathing once more. His older counterpart took significantly longer to calm himself, faint, repetitive clouds of icy breath giving away his rapid inhalation patterns.  
"Dammit that was close." He whispered finally, as an age wrinkled hand reached up to wipe thin beads of sweat from a high forehead crowned by thinning grey hair.  
Across the room, his rigidly straight back pressed against an unidentifiable coil of mining machinery, the second human raised himself from his crouching position and gestured to his companion. "Frankly, if that's the worst we encounter tonight I'll be going home a happy man."  
"Indeed, though with the turian's reputation for vigilance we need to make sure we stay alert."  
The other man merely smiled disarmingly. "I'm sure we'll manage between the two of us James; please, lead the way."

The pair of black-clad figures crept slowly through the bowels of Mining Station #5417, the constant whirring and grinding of industrial machinery drowning out any further attempts at conversation. Intermittently, one or both of the men would activate their omni-tool, glance at a certain readout and either nod with satisfaction, or grimace with distaste and abruptly begin moving with added urgency. "We're running late Timothy." James stated finally, their progress slowed by an almost impenetrable nest of wiring and fluid tubes.  
Timothy grunted as he fought to slip through the tiny gap they'd managed to create. "Only by our earliest estimate, having seen how laden the transporter was I doubt it will be leaving perfectly on schedule."  
James cast a self conscious glance over his shoulder as he activated his omni-tool again, concerned that the orange glow would give him away. "Even so, we need to hurry."  
"If you want to risk slicing a way through these wires with a cutting tool that neither of us have, please feel free." Tim's rebuke was laced with both sarcasm and frustration at the constrictive wires that were currently tangled around his leg. "And will you leave that omni-tool alone please? We haven't seen a single worker down this far for the past hour, what makes you think one will show up now?"  
James scowled, wondering how his youthful charge could detect his apprehension when his upper body was on the other side of the wiring, but held his tongue and deactivated his omni-tool with an air of distaste.  
"Wait, turn that back on again."  
Breathing out a frustrated sigh through his nose, James complied.  
"Perfect, now bring it closer to the gap."

The older man did so, but not without yet another paranoid glance at the shadowed corridors behind them that gleamed with the artificial light of extractor readouts and digital displays. As nervous as he was, the scattered beacons of orange light seemed almost to be watching him with malevolent intent; he half-expected one of them to suddenly start flashing a dangerous red and piercing alarms to begin shrieki-  
"James!"  
He found himself yanked out of his stupor with a stiff shudder. "What?" He hissed, privately wishing Tim would lower his voice a notch but reluctant to give the youth any further ammunition with which to revile him.  
"If you would be so kind as to turn on the flashlight?" Tim muttered with tried patience. "One of these damned coils is refusing to release my ankle."  
James' jaw clenched with irritation but he complied with the request, shining a piercing beam from his fingertips. He watched in bad tempered silence as Tim's fingers worked deftly to undo the knot; the cables finally falling loose a few excruciating moments later. There was the sound of faint footsteps from the other side of the wires and then a second beam of light illuminated the small hole Tim had left behind.  
"All clear on this side, come on through."

James shook his head, acutely aware of how much smaller the younger man's build was; it wasn't a drastic difference, but it was enough to make the older man wonder if he'd manage to fit through the same gap. Fortunately Tim's efforts had widened the space considerably and had forced many of the thick wires back, away from the hole. Expecting it to take him a good ten minutes, James was pleasantly surprised to find himself standing on the other side within half the time, and even more surprised to see Timothy leaning casually against the wall, idly toying with a small white stick about two inches long as he trawled through an extranet article. "Glad to see you've time for a break." He growled bitterly.  
Timothy looked up from his reading, allowing James a glimpse of the page's title: 'Greek Myths – Cerberus, Guardian of Hades'. He scowled, remembering the youth's interest in the ancient cultures.  
Tim ignored the glare and offered no apology, gesturing ahead to a small service hatch. "Our route is blocked and I don't have the hacking equipment." He nodded toward the weighty equipment bag his companion was currently dragging through the hole.  
"I don't need reminding." James shook his head but, despite his annoyance, moved to work on the hatch. "You brought those damn cigarettes with you too?" He demanded eventually as a spark flew from the service panel, temporarily illuminating his taught face in their dark, claustrophobic confines.  
"Just the one," replied Tim dismissively, "think of it as a victory celebration once we land."  
"Once we land all the celebration I'll need is a stiff drink and a day's worth of sleep." His friend muttered as he pried open an access node with a ply-cutter.  
"Come on James, where's your sense of adventure? We're furthering the cause of humanity today, you should be proud, brimming with energy and passion."  
James grunted as he shifted onto his knees, stretching his hands deep into the panel's innards to get at some unidentifiable mechanism. "Get to my age Tim and I...ugh... doubt you'll be so enthusiastic about the hands-on side of these endeavours."  
_One wonders if you were ever enthusiastic at all._ Thought Tim privately, but he said nothing. Instead, as James worked dutifully to open a route into life support, he found his thoughts straying to a recent conversation with an old friend...

* * *

"You've really taken a shine to those things huh Timothy?"  
A short puff of smoke momentarily obscured the soft smile that presented itself at the welcome interruption. Timothy pushed himself away from the cool surface of the railing and turned to offer his hand. "David, it's been far too long old friend."  
His black haired associate took the hand with practised ease and pumped it firmly, an action echoed by his peer. "Tell me about it," David replied, his heavy accent ever present, "last time I saw you had to be well over four months ago now. What have they had you doing?"  
"Nothing particularly grand, unfortunately." Tim paused to take a drag of his cigarette, whilst his friend used the brief lull to sample his choice of beverage for the evening. "Little more than the occasional assignment to undermine our extraterrestrial neighbours, though even those are becoming less and less frequent. I'm beginning to think our grandiose leaders are a lot less sure of themselves and their actions than they claim."  
David snorted. "I thought we'd already come to that conclusion some time ago."  
"I know," replied Tim, "I had allowed myself to hope it was a fleeting thing, a fraud put on to achieve a goal. But the election finished long ago and if anything this attitude of theirs seems even more prevalent now. Just listen to that waffle back in there." He gestured flippantly to the vibrant displays back in the lounge that were currently running a live broadcast of the Terra Firma Party's elected chairman Paul Rodriguez's speech from the party headquarters back on Earth.  
"We must continue to push for reparations for the First Contact War," droned the extranet screens, "the actions of the turians cannot be forgotten so willingly. But we cannot risk undermining the progress we've made thus far; we must quell these appearances of hatred toward our alien neighbours if we are to be taken seriously, we must prove that we are not a party of bigots and extremists."

"Not exactly what they promised us is it?" Remarked the Australian descendant.  
Tim leant over the yacht's railing once more, an act that David mirrored. "No, but we always said it was just a matter of time. Three different leaders while we've been here and every single one has buckled the moment they start to feel the pressure from the Alliance."  
"Tell me about it, when it comes down to it I get the feelin' we're wasting our time here. Between the xenophobe extremists and the pussies we got in charge the TFP can't make its bloody mind up which side of the fence it wants to sit on."  
"Its politics David; let a man sniff power and he'll be drunk for eternity; if he has a chance of gaining more power who cares what the people who gave it him think of his actions."  
"Too bloody right mate," replied David, "wouldn't mind so much if the bloke in charge didn't piss himself at the first whiff of outrage from the media."  
Timothy nodded but said nothing and the two men fell silent for a time, each with their own private thoughts about the state of their chosen political party.

"How is the other Mr. Lawson?" Asked Tim, eventually.  
David straightened, smoothing down the rumples of his white tailored suit before responding. "Still fighting the infection, but the docs reckon he's losing."  
Tim exhaled, the action accompanied by a thin grey cloud. "That's good."  
"Indeed. With luck the dodgy bastard'll be dead inside a year and the business will rest solely in the hands of the last Lawson. My father might hate me, but he'll be damned before he sees his business in the hands of offworlders."  
"A shrewd move there by the way, getting him thinking Jormangund Tech is interested in a takeover."  
David's eyebrows rose slightly at his friend's accurate intel, an action that didn't go unnoticed by the watchful Tim who allowed himself a small measure of satisfaction. "Thank you," he eventually responded, "the old coot did require some...persuasion."  
"And what will you do with your newfound fortune?" The dying embers of the cigarette were swiftly ground into the polished hardwood of the railing and the remnants swept into the sea, the orange shards offering one last brief flicker before being swallowed by the surf.  
David's blue eyes twinkled with a sudden enthusiasm at the mention of his future prospects. "You recall how much I wanted a daughter?"  
"Difficult things to buy with just credits."  
Lawson smirked. "Perhaps not." He replied, but offered no further explanation. "Tell me, have you given much more thought to our...discussion the last time we met?"  
"I have," Tim confided, "and recent events," he eyed the ongoing broadcast pointedly, "have only served to cement my opinion. I can merely hope that humanity will see the real value of its advocates before the ideal is forever tarnished."  
David smiled and clapped a hand on his companion's shoulder. "Well, when this change of hands at Lawson Industries comes to pass I'm sure my newly acquired business empire would be more than happy to support such a worthy desire."  
Tim allowed himself a thin curl at the corners of his mouth and deftly snatched a glass of champagne from a passing waitress. "To humanity, David Lawson."  
The glasses met with a crystalline chink. "To humanity."

* * *

Tucked away in his office on the upper levels of the station, Security Chief Carvaernos was busily reviewing the itinerary of the transporter that was currently offloading supplies to the station; he found himself desperately wishing something would happen to give him good cause to leave this damned paperwork alone when, as if by request, his omni-tool abruptly sprang to life with an incoming call. Happy to lay the datapads on the desk for any length of time, Pilax quickly opened the comm channel.

"Chief Carvaernos."  
"Chief? Senior Engineer Dylack here," came the stuffy sounding voice, its words punctuated by intermittent rasps, "we've just had a registered intrusion on one of our service hatches in the core systems down in life support. Normally pops up when we're doing maintenance if someone forgets to authorise access but I've checked the logs, we shouldn't have anyone down there for another two weeks."  
"You think it's a glitch?"  
"Probably," the volus sighed with exasperation, "with this equipment anything's possible. I was about to send one of my guys down to have a look at it but I thought I'd best run it by you first."  
Pilax idly rolled a stylus between his foreclaw and thumb as his eyes trailed over the stack of datapads in front of him. "I'll head down there first Dy, see if there's anything worth mentioning in my logs."  
"Anything to get away from the paperwork huh chief?"  
Pilax grunted, unwilling to show a crack in his impeccable discipline. He could have sworn he heard his old friend chuckle on the other end of the receiver.  
"Say no more, I'll have one of the techs standing by to head in and start smacking things with a servo-wrench once you give the all clear."  
The turian stood, clipping his sidearm to his hip more out of habit than as a precaution. "I'll be there in ten minutes." He informed the engineer and cut the connection, rolling his shoulders to loosen the stiff muscles before heading for the door.

* * *

"Would you stop twirling that damn cigarette and help me with this?" What little of James' face that could be seen was red with effort under the weight of the service panel he was trying to move. Tim slipped the little white stick back into his breast pocket and scuttled over to help heft the weighty metal off to the side.  
"Easy, wait, wait...alright I have it."  
"Thank you." Said James, his irritation clear. "Now, let's get moving, we're running low on time."  
Tim risked a glance at his omni-tool's chronometer. "Agreed, the transport will be leaving inside the half-hour."  
"That soon? Damn." The older man apparently decided they had no further time to waste on words and quickly snuck through the newly opened service hatch, leaving Timothy to shuffle after him in an awkwardly hunched fashion, his freedom of movement restricted by the passage's low ceiling.

Before long the pair of infiltrators arrived at the very core of the station's complex inner workings, the guidance systems on their omni-tools leading them to a small chamber with a door marked in the faint blue glow of turian script. Tim scanned the characters with his omni-tool and nodded affirmation to his friend. "Life support, this is the place."  
The pair soon had the doors open and stepped inside, finding themselves in a cramped workspace clearly built for the volus' ease of use. Forced to work around each other in the small space they shared, each man set to opening various panels with an array of compacted power tools, hacking into the newly exposed systems and inputting several pre-written programs from their omni-tools.

"We're sure these are going to work?" Timothy questioned, looking dubiously at the device on his wrist. Because of the dangerous, single use nature of the programs they were not only spilt between each man's omni-tool, requiring each of them to be present to commence an upload, but they were also biometrically locked; each user had to be in physical connection with their omni-tool and the individual's body signals were monitored by dozens of tiny sensors within the machine to make sure they were not being forced into activating the malicious codes. Once the upload commenced the vital signs were no longer monitored but an active DNA link had to be preserved as a final safeguard.

"Holt assured me they're fine," James replied, "he wrote them himself."  
"Holt?" A sudden distaste infested Tim's words.  
"Don't give me that Timothy," chided his friend, "I know you don't like the man, but he's more than capable of causing a station-wide life support failure."  
"I hope you're right, the party has a lot riding on this."  
"You think I don't know that? We succeed tonight and Dorn's profits will plummet while they try and bring this place back on line; with luck, they might even pull out of this system altogether."  
"There's an outcome I'd be happy with." Timothy glanced across the gloomy room, his sharp eyes noting an odd quiver in James' right hand.  
"Are you feeling alright James?" he asked, quickly finishing up his own modifications to the station's systems.  
The older human's brow furrowed and he rubbed his left hand vigorously against his right. "M-my hand just started to seize up."

Tim flipped the metal service covering back up and moved across the cramped workspace, narrowly avoiding scraping his head on the low ceiling. James was now quivering across his entire body and had slowly sunk down to the floor, his legs giving way under him so that his back slid painfully down the rough surface of the wall.  
"James?" Tim's voice was fraught with concern as he took hold of his mentor's arm, scanning it with his omni-tool for any clue about what was happening.  
"James?" The elder had seized up completely now and he stared limply off into the distance, his head lolling slightly against his chest. His complexion had quickly become alarmingly pale and his thick lips trembled as he tried to speak.  
"I...I..." The strain of finishing the sentence was too much.  
"James, listen to me." Tim moved to straddle James as he crouched, grasping the man's head between his palms to examine his unfocused iris'. "I need to know, have you ever had anything like this happen before?"  
James' harsh breathing echoed in Timothy's ears as the younger man continued to examine his stricken comrade, all the while acutely aware of their impending time limit.  
James tried again. "N...n...no." The words took a frightening amount of effort to speak and James was horrified to hear them come out in no more than a whisper.  
Tim took a deep breath and stepped back, locking gazes with his frightened cohort. "Can you move anything at all?" James' lips twitched but Tim held his hand up. "Tell you what, blink once for yes, twice for no."  
Two blinks.  
Timothy's wide with worry eyes abruptly narrowed and a small smile curled at the corners of his mouth. "Perfect."

James now found himself not only completely terrified but very confused. He tried to track Tim with his eyes as the other man ignored his predicament completely and reached above him to finish the system hack James hadn't been able to complete.  
"Wh...what?" He managed strenuously.  
Tim didn't even stop to spare him a glance. "Xaitallia James." He explained. "It's a paralyzing toxin developed by our friendly galactic neighbours. Marvellous thing really, makes the human body go into complete shutdown but leaves all the vital systems untouched, even the eyes, though I suspect that was to help the interrogators pick up on subtle giveaways. Lasts quite a while too, in fact you'll likely be that way for a good three or four hours now." James heard a grunt and something clang as it hit the floor next to his right hand. "They originally developed it for subduing hostages you see, devastatingly effective in trials, but largely useless after the end of the Contact War. In fact I'm surprised you're still able to talk, not many have the strength left to do that by the time the toxin has taken effect."

James struggled to process this, his silence accompanied by the steady, systematic working above his head. "Why?" He eventually croaked.  
Abruptly the soft grinding from one of Tim's tools ceased and something that sounded suspiciously like a sigh entered his ears.#  
"If it helps I haven't particularly enjoyed doing this to you James, but it's an unfortunate and necessary step that needs to be taken if humanity is to survive in this galaxy. I would have preferred that you weren't here, but there was no other way; if you had known what I was here to do...well, let's just say that it wouldn't have been pleasant."  
The air filled with the buzz of tools again for a few minutes before Tim finally finished his task and stepped back, lowering himself to James' level as he gathered up their equipment.  
To his victim's surprise, he genuinely did look sorrowful. "You see old friend, I've come to realise that the Terra Firma Party is too afraid to do what is truly necessary for the advancement of humanity. We're never prepared to take that hard line James; we push and push but the minute something goes out of acceptable bounds, no one wants to do what must be done."  
Tim's hazel eyes looked up to meet James' own. "I'm sorry it's come to this, but there will be sacrifices required in this new era and you will be but the first of many."

The older man strained to take control of his own voice again. "You...sick...bas-"  
"It's a despicable thing to do to another human being, yes. But history will vindicate me, I think." Tim finished collecting their gear and withdrew a small block from one of the bags, the device clicking and clacking as it extended into something immediately recognizable as a weapon. "Without me, without a true advocate, humanity is ultimately doomed."  
James' eyes widened at the presence of the firearm. Tim caught the look. "Yes, I know. The party forbids us from carrying weapons, let alone using them. Activists not murders right?" A dismissive snort accompanied the shake of his head.  
James, despite his paralysation, managed to glower at the man who had once been his subordinate.  
"If I'd have thought that you could have been persuaded to our cause I'd have approached you, offered you a chance. But I watched you James, many times I watched you and all I saw was the epitome of what the party stands for; like them, you were blind. Ignorant of the plethora of possibilities that lie at your fingertips if you'd just have the balls to make the tough decisions humanity needs us to."

Hardened eyes affixed the older man with a look that said everything. "I doubt it'll be of much comfort to you now, but despite all your shortcomings you're going to be the first part of something far greater than you could have ever dreamed of. I won't pretend you'll be remembered, we both know better than that, but what we accomplish today will be the greatest achievement of your life. Were I you, I'd take some solace in that before this station, and your life, is erased from existence."  
"You-you're...going...t-"  
"Destroy the station? Yes. It'll send a far stronger message than your temporary shutdown ever would have. In just a few hours it'll all be over for everyone here. For humanity, it'll have only just begun." Timothy glanced at James' wrist as his omni-tool pipped and after a quick inspection of the new display that had appeared, thumbed the pistol's safety off. "Unfortunately, your journey ends here old friend. Now that your omni-tool has finished uploading my altered programs, I've no further use for you, alive anyway."

James moved his lips desperately in an attempt to stave off his inevitable fate; the sheer strain of speaking causing thick beads of sweat to trickle down his brow. "The party..."  
"-Will assume you're the culprit for what's happened and that something went dreadfully wrong as you attempted to plant whatever charges you'd brought with you, crossed wires perhaps, it matters little. As far as they're concerned, I never set foot aboard that transport and as a matter of fact, you demanded I let you go alone." A faint glimpse of pearly white teeth appeared in the darkness. "And who was I to argue? I still have need of the Terra Firma Party James, for now, and the less suspicion they have about me the better for my purposes."

The handgun snapped up and James managed one last sharp intake of breath before his world erupted into blinding light.

* * *

A lone figure worked his way back through the station, feeling very alone and supremely confident. The ball had finally begun rolling, the long, excruciatingly detailed chain of events set into motion. Within two hours Tim would be at the nearest trading port, securing passage back to Alliance space whilst the doomed mining station's power core went critical and overloaded, courtesy of the re-programmed hacks he'd worked into the systems. _And, _he reflected, _when it blew the owner's stocks would plummet as soon as news of the incident spread_; this would provide him with an ample opportunity to invest in the company's holdings at a very cheap rate and, in addition to making a significant profit on the stock units in the long term, he'd also gain partial control over the company itself, whether it was recognized or not. Undoubtedly the best method of fighting the aliens, or indeed anyone, was to control their assets. In war, you'd cut off the enemy's supply lines and do terrible damage; but why destroy what you can already manipulate and use to cause even greater harm over time?

Timothy's philosophy was simple: Control the enemy, before they control you. It wasn't always feasible, but when it was it paid for itself many times over. He'd gotten quite good at it over the years, using his foreknowledge of the Terra Firma Party's activities to gain a strong financial position; but this was the first time he'd found himself with such a lucrative opportunity. Of course, this was also the first and likely last time the Party would ever make such a bold statement.

A strange noise filled his ears, distorted by all the echoes and vibrations of the metal that encased him. He froze immediately, cocking his head and straining his ears to listen. He heard it again. A clang, as if someone had put their foot down heavily, and distorted echoes that sounded like mumbling. It was directly in front of him, as best he could tell, and there was no alternate route to the transport. Tim ducked into a nearby alcove, moving as quickly and as quietly as he dared. The pistol he'd brought along rested reassuringly in his hands as he fought to make himself smaller, his every instinct telling him the source of the commotion was coming this way. Tim bit back the sudden urge to open his omni-tool and re-check his deadline for the transport shuttle; even if he could activate it without the tell-tale orange glow giving his position away, knowing just how little time remained would only serve to heighten his nerves.

Footsteps echoed their way down to him, the strides more synchronized now, definitive. Tim assumed the owner had just made his way through the crudely created 'hole' he and James had opened in the wiring earlier. They'd both known it'd cause suspicion if it was seen, but for the entire duration of the operation, and the eventual systems failure, none of the station's volus workers were supposed to be on duty down here. Tim listened more intently, focusing as best he could as the being drew nearer and its footsteps became clearer. His analytical brain swiftly broke down the elements: _Long strides, purposeful, heel first, military style rapid pacing...damn it._ It could only be a turian, the volus' centuries old protectors, often hired as security for firms like this. They'd known of the three stationed here of course, but none of them should have been down this far. _Unless they'd caught something,_ Tim decided, _some tiny slip-up, something we missed. _He cursed James for insisting on planning the whole operation alone and leaving Tim to decipher what little he could from the scant briefing sheets.

The turian was closer now, he could hear the rustling of the clothes he wore and the bad-tempered heavy breathing as the taller species had to stoop in the tunnels that had been designed for beings half his stature. Tim held his breath and remained rigid, fully aware that the slightest of movements, even if he managed to somehow move without clanging something metal, could draw the dangerously accurate predatory eyes of his alien adversary. The turian, wrapped in shadow and the haunting red lights of the machinery panels, passed without even slowing. Tim waited a long five seconds, exhaled and in a moment of rational clarity, knew exactly what he needed to do. He uncoiled and sprung out into the hallway like a cat. The turian was already spinning around at the sudden commotion but Timothy had all the advantages and more importantly, knew how to use them. A pair of rapid cracks boomed in the confined space and the alien hit the ground with a thud that reverberated through Tim's feet.

The air fizzed with spent mass energy and the smell of ozone mixed with the foul stench of alien blood filled the human's nostrils. He took two steps forward, one for each slug he'd just placed very accurately in the turian's lower back. His enemy lay sprawled on the floor; his turn just before Tim's shots had resulted in him lying almost on his side, a pool of indigo blood slowly forming across his security outfit. Evidently, if he'd been carrying mass effect shielding the device hadn't been active, a gross oversight. The being gasped and groaned through a croaky, guttural voice as he tried to move his head to glimpse the attacker. Tim obliged the security officer by rolling him over with his foot, placing the turian on his back. The angular torso of the species caused the turian to lie at a 20 degree angle, spared from lying on his wounds by the inverted curvature of his spine.

Tim watched his fallen foe's agonised movements and strained breathing with no small amount of wonderment. It was his first kill, and he felt strangely thrilled by it, with some tactical instinct demanding he study this as much as possible in order to better remember it in future. The alien's normally hard expression had melted into one of excruciating pain and it gazed up at the small, black-clad human with the gun in his hand, struggling to understand the most base of questions: Who and Why?  
He tried to speak and coughed instead. Blood fell from his mandibles and landed limply on the front of his beige uniform.  
Timothy's omni-tool sprang to life with a soft ping, bathing the two beings in a lurid neon glow. Tim's eyes flicked over it and back to the turian almost immediately, the gun never wavering. Knowing he was running out of time, the human tightened his grip around the pistol and approached the fallen figure, irises burning with malevolent intent.  
The turian's dark eyes were constricted with pain and he could see his vision starting to haze. "Who are you?" he managed finally.  
A cruel smile formed on the human's face as he pressed the barrel of the weapon to the alien's forehead. "Cerberus." He breathed and squeezed the trigger.

The turian's head jerked from the impact and lolled back limply, his cheek mandibles splayed lifelessly to the sides. Tim exhaled and drew the weapon back, raising himself up off his haunches. The human moved to continue his escape then paused two steps later, thinking better of the notion. He turned and laid his pistol on the floor, sliding it past the turian's body and toward the life support chamber. He had no intent to use the device again and if the forensic evidence ever turned up traces of gunfire, better the weapon be left here to further incriminate James. The odds were low, given what he was going to do to the station, but better not to take them if he could help it. Silently thankful he and James wore an identical pair of black, DNA obscuring gloves, Timothy fired up his omni-tool, spat a curse and made a run for the transporter.

-12 Hours Later-

Our headline story tonight: Tragedy strikes a turian mining station within the Icarus asteroid field. Mining Station #5417, owned by the volus run Dorn Mining Corporation, has been utterly destroyed by what is believed to be a catastrophic systems failure. Assigned to gather iridium from the asteroid field, the station was home to more than twenty volus workers and three turian security staff and served as the primary staple of turian expansion in the region. It is currently not known what caused the devastating explosion that ripped the station apart, but from initial reports, emergency services are not confident about finding survivors.

A spokesman for Dorn was quoted as saying: "This is a horrific tragedy. Our sympathies and condolences lie with the families and friends of those we have lost and an investigation is currently being undertaken to determine the cause of this terrible accident. The corporation takes the safety of its employees very seriously and will do its utmost to provide closure to those affected by this terrible loss of life."

A relatively new structure with a lifespan of only two years, the mining station was built to exploit the mineral rich asteroids located within the system with the intent to use the resources on turian warships currently in development. The announcement and subsequent launch of the station were surrounded in controversy as many human political parties and key figures claimed the turian Hierarchy was impinging on a system that had long been under consideration for human colonization.

Shares in the company have fallen sharply within the last few hours, with investors selling off units cheap in response to this disturbing incident. Lawson Industries however, the famed pioneer of human-based genetic modification, has pledged to support the volus run corporation, investing millions in shares to help the company weather the financial storm. David Lawson, the company's chairman and son of owner Martyn Lawson, issued a statement urging other human-centric corporations to "put aside the past and look to creating a new, brighter future for us all".

In other news today, an extranet manifesto has been published today by an ambiguous figure calling himself "The Illusive Man". The lengthy article details several alleged transgressions against humanity and claims the Systems Alliance cannot be trusted to advance humanity's interests in the galaxy. It also calls for "a Cerberus to stand watch against the aliens from beyond the Charon Relay".

The manifesto has caused a scandal among high ranking alliance figures who have described the document as being "typical pro-human extremism, published at the most insensitive of times considering the terrible events that have just struck our galactic neighbours."

* * *

**Author Notes  
**Please note that this story has been my own personal take on how the Illusive Man may have founded Cerberus. Unlike my other Mass Effect efforts, this story does **not **match up with the official canon concerning the Illusive Man's origins, which I think (without having read Evolutions), is a little thin on the ground anyway. This is my own personal interpretation, in no way shape or form should it be taken as "factual". The dates of various events have also been modified for the sake of the story's continuity.

This was written primarily for a DeviantArt competition so if you've got an account over there go hit me up (DementedAssassin) and any comments, critique and faves you have would very much be appreciated!

-DA.


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